China Cup

Let filthy riots sing! After all, all they screech about is how their labors had borne no fruit, and yours did.

For them, need-be was constantly. As your lips drank from china, the steady stream of tea swallowed them downward… the economy; an unforgiving sea.

Enterprising the safety of your wrath, they over spill they over keel and no longer kneel to your china cup.

They clash homemade tools with your gold inlaid guns. They are the correspondent to your annoyance with a bug while you are their sport of an ailing fun… Look at you! You have the tiny rebels on the run!

So let filthy riots sing! After all, all they screech about is how their labors had borne no fruit, and yours did.

But may you admire a rebel’s bravery: It mimics you in youth.

And along their dreadful while,

may you encourage their disputes.

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